Me and my teenage boyfriend
by HaneGaNai
Summary: He and his teenage boyfriend, loving in his own, Ichigo-like way. Ren/Ichi, shounen-ai. Betaed by FreakinMi


**Betaed by:** God aka FreakinMi

**Pairing:** Renji/Ichigo

**Warning: **possible OOC Renji, shounen-ai

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**A/N:** It was supposed to be a part of something bigger. But now I wonder. I'll just have to write another fic. :P

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Kurosaki Ichigo, the substitute shinigami representative, "number one guardian", the Strawberry, the eldest Kurosaki sibling, Zangetsu possessor, defender of the weak and suffering (even if he was the only one thinking of them that way), ever present scowl, walking sex-dream with a tummy-showing T-shirt and skin-tight jeans showing off his perfect ass, my lover, my love. My teenage boyfriend. So many names so many faces. All for me to see. All of them in a single perfectly annoying but loveable being.

Well yeah, sometimes Ichigo is worse than a chick with PMS. Honestly, he can go from ecstatic, through furious, to sulking – or make that brooding, as he prefers to call it – all during one sentence. That's more than moody. And all his emo shit sometimes makes me wonder why I'm with the kid. But aside his period he's a cool guy, really. He makes the cutes face when all riled up or pouting. Or with that bright red blush matching his hair, reaching even the tips of his ears. And that permanent scowl – makes you cherish those rare smiles so damn much.

It's not like I'm without flaws myself. You know me – I'm Abarai Renji. The jackass. I can be just as childish as he is. Fight with him over little things. Beat him to a pulp, or be beaten myself. We both find great joy in arguing and teasing the hell out of each other. And in make up sex. That's certainly the best part.

I'm on cloud nine when I wake up in the morning to see him there in my arms, snuggled in my warmth, looking at me with sleep-fogged eyes and that lazy smile. He brushes the stray strands of my red hair off my face, cups my cheek and then he whispers my name, before kissing me sweetly. My name. One single time. His voice still hoarse, but so tender. So warm. So loving. And I'm ready to kill for him. To die for him. To shatter the world into pieces. He's the only one I need. The only air I breathe. My only sun. My whole world.

But most of the time that's as much of a confession I get. I'm not really complaining. It makes me happy that he isn't squealing at the very sight of me or pouncing on me every five seconds. But hey, I can count how many times he said "I love you" on my fingers.

So I'm the romantic one in this relationship getting all mushy during the act and panting "love you"'s in his ear as I reach my edge or waking him up with a kiss just so he'd listen to me. Or just holding him close in my lap, kissing his forehead every now and then. Or playing with his hair as we lay together in the bathtub, my head settled on his shoulder as I'm sitting between his legs, enjoying the hot water and the touch of his body pressed against mine.

I don't know if he's embarrassed, careful or trying to be a tough guy. I don't feel less of a man only because I like showing him how strong my feelings for him are. Maybe he's too young to know how important it is for me to hear him say those words. Too young. And too alive.

Maybe that's the problem. He's still fifteen, still bound to his body, attending school. And here I am, nothing more than a soul, a shinigami. I lived, died, came to Soul Society and became a lieutenant a long time before he had been even born. I experienced many things, both good and bad. He's still learning about life. My friends are mostly souls just like me. He still has a living family.

Don't get me wrong. Never once have I wished he died. I thought about it, yes. That I can't deny. I miss him every second I can't see him. But I'm glad he's alive. I'm glad he has a life of his own. I'm glad he has his sisters. I'm even glad he has his messed up dad. It makes me so incredibly happy to see him _breathe_. I'd never want to see him lose all that. To see him die. Even if I know for certain, that he would be returned to me.

But the whole Real World/Soul Society thing makes our time together short. So agonizingly short. Fortunately, we don't have to hide our relationship. Nobody is chasing us with pitchforks and torches, or worse – unsheathed Zanpakutos. Hell no – everybody approves. Especially my midget friend, the yaoi freak – Rukia. She's like the paparazzi, always on our heels. I remember that time, when we caught her in Ichigo's closet, all set to make a photo of us making out. Hadn't I been angry at her for interrupting us, I'd probably be laying on the floor laughing. The expression on my lover's face was priceless. His mouth wide open and ready to yell, fists clenched in anger and that cute blush. Needless to say, we threw her out and continued what had been interrupted before.

But sometimes there's not much time for us to be together. There's never enough time. I don't want to disturb him with his studies, as he plans to be a doctor someday. He's got enough work with homework and chasing Hollows without me groping his ass or annoying the hell out of him. And sometimes I'm overloaded with the stacks of paperwork my Captain so generously bestows upon me (only he knows why all those documents need my signature), training newbies in the dojo or kicking some hollow asses. There are weeks when we're unable to meet even once. There may be a time, when that period will lengthen to months. Damn, even years.

There's this dream I have from time to time, when I haven't seen my Berry for a few days. I'm jumping through his window in my usual fashion after some time of being unable to meet up with him, but he's not there. After some time of looking, I find him with a wife and kids, all grown up and not mine anymore. Or worse – I'm standing before a grave. Because what felt like months for me in Seiretei, happened to be years for him.

I never told him about those nightmares. Why should I? I never dreamed them while spending the night together with him. His warmth, his smell, his voice. His face pressed in my hair as I deposit my head in the crock of his neck. His steady heartbeat lulling me to sleep. His fingers brushing the skin on my back ever so lightly, tracing the outlines of my tattoos before he too falls asleep.

But maybe he dreams of similar things. Maybe that's why he's careful with words. Maybe he's scared. Of the time we might have to spend separated, each in his own world. Of losing me in one of the upcoming battles. Of all the things that may tear us apart.

Or maybe that's just the way my teenage boyfriend is. Reckless in fighting, but not with important words. Carefully building our relationship. Bickering and sulking due to little things, but unable to stay mad at me for too long. Angsty at times, but with a sharp, talented tongue (if you know what I mean).My sweet Strawberry loving in his own, Ichigo-like way.


End file.
